


One to the right, then two to the left

by cowboy_russo



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dancing, Dimilix Week (Fire Emblem), M/M, not really shippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29495658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboy_russo/pseuds/cowboy_russo
Summary: "This is just something that comes to mind lately when I am supposed to partake in dances."
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13
Collections: 2021 Dimilix Week





	One to the right, then two to the left

While it was memorable that his crowning had been ten years ago this same moon, it was still too early for celebrations. Nearly two weeks off from the date set for the ball that would be hosted at the castle. It would be a grandiose event that Dimitri wouldn't even really be able to appreciate, as it would serve for political talks that don’t happen in more formal work spaces, not for leisure and pleasure.

Enjoying might be a strong word, but he was certainly pleased as he hides from the chill of his room. From the oppressive coldness of the walls that did not allow him to sleep. The sky might be clear of clouds, but his mind was not clear of memories and worries.

The private training grounds were a pleasant place to think at this time, completely undisturbed on the dead of the frigid pale darkness of the night. Being able to have a moment to simply be himself was rare, even with all of the breaks he had been medically required to take as a form of self-preservation.

He is also hiding from the memories that plagued his mind. Their unchangeable nature striking a pain in his heart worse than anything a blade could cause. Even once happy times became tinged with melancholy from what happened afterwards, not one thought was safe from this aching development.

Steps sound at the entrance of the training grounds, pulling Dimitri out of his thoughts, too quiet to be a guard, too loud to be someone looking to be stealthy. The click clack of Felix’s boots have always been a customary sound in Dimitri’s life, ever present as his own breathing, or the aches in his body, circling his mind all day long.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep already?” Felix asks in lieu of a greeting. The inquisition isn’t a demand for some kind of clarification, it is a show of concern. Already knowing the answer meant questions took different meanings. He stops for a moment, squinting in the dim light, then adds “What are you doing here?”

By the way he is dressed, it is apparent that he was already in the middle of dressing down for bed when he noticed Dimitri’s absence.

Felix’s coat is open in an uncharacteristic manner. Dimitri recognized the undershirt as one of one of his own, the laces on Felix’s neck hanging loose down his collar. Felix’s hair is also down, normally pulled tightly on a bun or a ponytail, now unbound and sitting comfortably on lithe shoulders.

“I may be feeling a bit nostalgic on these recent days” It isn’t really an answer, and Dimitri recognizes that. He nearly chokes trying not to apologize, still feeling like he should, for making Felix worry about him. Some habits take longer to break free from.

“About what?” Weary. Dimitri’s memories weren’t painless, they managed to hurt him even more than he already had been. Felix knew that, as his own memories operated the same way.

Maybe he was nostalgic for the false innocence from before the war. They both were. Even if, in their childhoods, they already knew peace was fragile. And not all memories from here were nice reminders. The Academy hadn’t been the best place and time for either of them.

“The fleeting moments we only value much later on, dear” as if he didn’t reminisce on them extensively enough already. As if what he had said could answer anything Felix had asked. Just a meaningless vague statement. Most of his early life could be described as that. The myriad of instants of pure happiness shattering after only a tick from the clock.

Dimitri smiles softly. His eye lazily blinking in the darkness of the unlit torches, like the moon. Pale light as a beacon against the night dark. A magnetic sight waiting to catch your view and keep it like how a child holds an unexpected gift from far away relatives.

“Ah” Felix sighs, gently shaking his head from side to side, he looks downwards at his hands, pulling his coat closed to shield himself from the cool breeze that blows softly and rustles his hair. It is more disheveled than he normally allows it to be. “What about?"

“Dancing” Dimitri replies, wishing Felix could understand all that this single word meant for him. He looks at Felix with a sad smile on his face, eyebrows slightly pinched together up on his forehead. There is a glint in his eye, as if tearing up. He blinks fast and holds his hand out.

Dimitri holds out his hand. A silent invitation. Felix takes it, angrily allowing his coat to fall open again and billow behind him. The colds breeze rustles it softly.

Felix isn’t exactly expecting Dimitri to pull him in, other hand at his waist, keeping him close. It’s complete muscle memory that makes him hold onto Dimitri’s shoulder. Felix looks agape at Dimitri for a moment, who just smiles and bows down to kiss the top of his head. It’s both an apology and a show of gratitude.

Not being on a proper ballroom, with music and other guests, means that the first steps are stilted, abrupt and uneasy. It isn’t a show for whoever might be watching, it’s a personal act of comfort. The rhythm is off, and the length of the strides inconsistent.

“Dancing isn’t all you are thinking about, otherwise we’d be in our quarters” Felix spoke quietly, words fading in the air between them.

“You’re always onto me…” Dimitri said, looking up at the ceiling “I’m actually thinking about Edelgard. She was the first person that danced with me for fun, not mentioning my parents.”

“You’ve told me before” Felix allows himself to lay his head on Dimitri’s shoulder, moving his free arm so that it runs behind Dimitri’s neck, grasping at Dimitri’s other shoulder. It pulls them even closer than before.

It is inevitable that they fall into a calm cadence, stepping heavily on the count of four and then reversing back to softly touching the ground with their boots, heels going last after the point of the feet. The same way they used to dance outside of the royal parties during childhood.

“I have.” It was over tea, on a spring day, that the topic was brought up. It never resurfaced afterwards. Felix had assumed that that was the end of the extent that Dimitri would share.

Felix doesn’t respond directly, not having the words to convey his feelings. He just holds harder onto Dimitri, burrowing his head even more on the crook of Dimitri’s neck.

“This is just something that comes to mind lately when I am supposed to partake in dances.” Dimitri hums, resting his chin on Felix’s head.

They stay like that for a while, just moving slowly and silently, together in the dark. It feels like the many times they left yearly at social functions, looking for a private room to enjoy what otherwise felt like a chore. The parties too impersonal, hostile to genuine displays of enjoyment. Being political figures had that misfortune.

“Does it hurt?” Felix finally asks, looking for sensibility, but not waiting for a response.

“Does what hurt, love?”

“Looking back on those memories. She had been dear to you once, but you ended up needing to kill her.”

Dimitri stops for a moment, locking Felix in place. His face sad and tender in the pale dim light of the night, eyebrows pinched and pained.

“It does” Dimitri replies slowly, testing the words before actually saying them. It felt like chewy caramel on his lips, desired, but uncomfortable. “Some days more than others, you know my moods by now” He starts moving again.

That was something he had admitted to himself, that it would always hurt. And he could only try not to let the memories get muddled with later feelings he might have. It had been a beautiful time that summer, more than idyllic, as if it could only exist in imagination, even though he had the proof of experiencing it.

Felix holds harder onto Dimitri as a reply, trying to get closer than possible by burying himself in Dimitri’s coat and chest, too tired to actually reply something at the moment. He had hoped to make Dimitri come to bed, not to be whisked away to dance in a cold entryway, confronting ghosts.

It is a slow movement, dwindling its speed even more as they come close to making a full circle back to where they started, next to the entrance to the training grounds. Felix pulls on Dimitri’s coat, asking for his attention.

“Let’s go. It’s late” Felix speaks, watering tired eyes barely able to stay open for long.

“Okay.”

It is comforting to be able to hold someone’s hand, even more to hold them whole, raw and tempestuous, trusting to come out alive.

**Author's Note:**

> dimilix is so powerful that it made me write something (that wansnt pretentious garbage for some class where i wanted to have a superiority complex) after like, five years.


End file.
